Escape to Pagan (10 page)

I believe Victor returned to his old job on the railway at Mandalay. Being Herman Unger's son, a German citizen may have made this possible. Perhaps my grandmother was also using the name Unger, for two years later she travelled from our internment camp at Tada u to bring back her dying son from a village somewhere near Mandalay. She used rubies as bribes. Victor died of cholera soon after. There were so many more questions I could have asked Mother but did not. I believed she would be around for ever.

“Under a full moon, mother and I walked most of the night along the railway track to the next station. I was exhausted. When we finally arrived, it was crowded, everyone was shouting. It was impossible to search for Cyril, Victor or Lucy in the chaos of the milling crowd, so we sat down and rested. Many people at the station had also lost members of their families and went looking for them. This of course gave other people a chance to climb into their vacated space. My mother took this
opportunity to squeeze into a goods carriage with you and made room for me. Then the worst thing happened, every time I think about it I always want to cry. I had forgotten a valise that I was sitting on which contained your clothes and some of my valuables. When I rushed back I could not find it. Mother was shouting at me to leave it. Suddenly the train began to pull away; there were so many people in the way that I could not get back on the train. I was left behind. I ran as fast as I could but I just could not catch up. I watched the train pulling further and further away. Mother was shouting instructions at me, but I could not hear a word. As young as you were, you realized what had happened and were crying. I was so desperate, even now I don't like thinking about it. I will never forget the feeling of utter despair. I had ruined everything. I just stood there balling my eyes out. I had probably lost my husband, my home and now my nearest family. In anguish I began to chase the train again, which by now had disappeared.

“I was now alone surrounded by scrub jungle and away from the safety of the station. I was drained of energy and just sat on the tracks crying my eyes out. I did not know what to do. Without hope, but urged on by an instinct I followed the tracks and prayed for a miracle.”

This was one story Mother seldom related. Burma is three times the size of Britain. She would never have found us.

“It was now getting dark and the jackals began calling in the distance. I felt vulnerable as I walked on the sleepers to make less noise. Jackals will lead a tiger to any helpless human in the jungle, just to scavenge their remains. I was convinced a tiger would appear at any moment out of the jungle and crouch on the railway track.

“There is little twilight in Burma; soon it would be pitch-black before the moon and stars appeared. This hour of total darkness according to my brothers was known as ‘the dangerous hour'. It is the time of the nocturnal predators. I felt like screaming. Then to my astonishment and total relief I saw a dim figure walking towards me in the fading
light – my mother! She was carrying you; it seemed to me that all our remaining possessions had been lost, left on the train. But I did not care, my prayers had been answered. ‘Don't get separated from us again Kate' was my mother's only greeting. But I knew she was so relieved to see me.

“'Quick our belongings are with the Pathan night watchman from Taunggyi, he is looking after them until I return.' said my mother. I was so happy. The train had slowed down for some reason and my mother and the Pathan got off. Handing you over to me, my mother set off at a quick pace. I could not stop crying for joy. I vowed that under no circumstances would I ever be separated or disobey my mother again. Soon our little group were reunited with our possessions.

“This Pathan, who used to patrol our street in Taunggyi, was often given tea and food when he passed at night; he was also at our wedding. The tall proud Pathans came from Afghanistan in the north of India. Pathans were the most feared night watchmen in Burma. They always carried a thick heavy metalled bound stick and a dagger under their robes. The Pathan refused all our efforts to reward him and quickly set off for his home and family nearby. He had no intention of remaining in Burma. He wished to make the journey to India with his family on foot before the coming monsoon. That night we slept in an old railway carriage at the side of the track. It had no door.”

The noble Pathan had a good chance of guiding his family through the Hakawng Valley ahead of the retreating Chinese and the advancing monsoon. The steep tracks would be dry, the leach and tick population would still be aestivating. The gravid female malaria mosquitoes would be patiently waiting, sheltering under leaves from the sun, waiting to drop their eggs in the first puddles of the approaching mango showers. I hope this good man made it back to his far off village somewhere in the barren, dry hills of Afghanistan.

“That was the first of many nights spent in the Burmese jungle without a door for protection. The following morning our small family group
walked along the railway line to the next station. There was a train at the platform. This was the same train to Myitkyina Airport that my mother and the Pathan watchman had got off the day before; it had been bombed and machine gunned by enemy planes. The dead were quickly being buried next to the railway lines. It had taken the crew all that time to get the train moving again. There was no news of Cyril, Victor or Lucy at the station. My mother prayed that somehow they had managed to reach the airport and had been flown to India. The guard and his wife were no longer in the last carriage; it was now filled with strangers.

“The following day the train reached the station on the outskirts of Myitkyina Airport without incident. We carried you in a sling and were soon walking along a road when night began to fall, but I was not afraid. There were so many other people walking with us, talking about reaching India and safety. Everyone was happy to be escaping the war and leaving Burma. It was dark when we arrived at the airport; the planes had stopped flying until the next day. To our disappointment the Airport was crowded.

“We lit a small fire, made tea and people shared their food. We slept on the grass with the rest of the refugees. I felt safe for once. We would be in the queue for the flight to India tomorrow. That night the edge of the airfield twinkled with small fires as people cooked their evening meals. The following day we were pleased to see that everything was being conducted in an orderly manner. There were both British Army and Air Force personnel present, moving among the crowds of refugees keeping order. They told everyone not to panic as there were plenty of planes scheduled to arrive. Soon we would all be safe in India; the Japanese were still a long way away.

“Those not in the queues waited patiently to join them at the edge of the airfield; today or tomorrow we would all be on a plane to India and freedom. Some of the children played together while they waited, but we kept you in-between us in case you got lost.

“The transport planes began arriving at regular intervals and the people in the front of the queues climbed aboard. My God, so many people got on. l watched the planes slowly take off and head towards India and safety. I was scared; I had never been in a plane before.

“I could see my mother was worried about leaving her other children and members of her family behind in Burma. I was determined not to
let her suddenly change her mind once I was on the plane. I told my mother: If you suddenly change your mind and don't get on the plane, I won't go to India on my own.

“We met some families we knew that had escaped from Rangoon. They told us Rangoon was a madhouse. The Gloucester Regiment were patrolling the city in jeeps and were forced to shoot looters and arsonists. Every shop window had been smashed; even the military were seen taking what they needed from the shops. Armed dacoits were operating in the suburbs. Brand new American vehicles were being burnt at the docks by British soldiers. Everyone seemed to be panicking, there was no organisation and hundreds of people including soldiers were escaping along the main road.

“All the dangerous animals in Rangoon zoo had escaped when it was bombed. The same happened with the lunatic asylum and Rangoon jail. Mad people and criminals were looting the shops and roaming the streets laughing and shouting and setting fire to everything. It was total bedlam. Fortunately the Japs had not entered the city as yet. The refugees also said that Mandalay was being heavily bombed. Thank God our family were no longer living there.

“I prayed my eldest sister Grace's house in Rangoon had not been bombed or looted. The refugees told us the trains were still running but the station gates had been shut as most of the carriages had been reserved for the Civil Service and the Colonial department. Desperate civilians were climbing on the roofs of the carriages and were being beaten off by Indian police with long canes.

“The following morning the transport planes began arriving again; by midday we were standing in the middle of the queue in the full heat of the sun but there were hold ups as the organizers were giving priority to large groups of new Indian arrivals. We heard later that these people were paying for their passage. The planes loaded up quickly and then took off.